Everything
by JenniFromtheBlock
Summary: If I can't get what I want, I'll write my own damn ending. After 6x08.


They walked the 10 minutes to Cristina's apartment in silence, she keeping up with his steady, purposeful stride through the parking lot and across the street. As they waited for the streetlight to change, she thought about slipping her hand into his, but she couldn't do it. As much as she longed to feel his touch, she knew he was still angry with her, and she was angry with him, and she was too stubborn to give into her desire to feel the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers.

Owen closed the door of the apartment behind him and followed Cristina past the remnants of the surprise party into the bedroom. Silently, she dropped her purse and jacket on the chair and continued walking into the bathroom. Owen sat on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes, listening to her brushing her teeth. He felt tense; they had bickered before, but never fought to this extent. It made him nervous, like he was on shaky ground. Cristina was the one person he thought he would always feel secure with, and he didn't like this new tenuous feeling in their relationship, like he didn't know what kind of behavior he could or should expect from her. He was mad, but even more so, he felt anxious. Cristina was difficult, stubborn, and painfully smart, qualities he always loved about her. Today, however, he found those same qualities to be less attractive than usual, and that was a new and unpleasant emotion.

He pulled a clean t-shirt and pajama bottoms out of his drawer and began to change, thinking about his brief conversation with Cristina a few minutes ago at the hospital. She apologized, and he believed she did see some of the wrong in her actions, but he wasn't sure she fully understood his point of view. There was something else there, as well, something he knew that he hadn't understood.

Cristina came out of the bathroom peeling off her clothes and dropping them with her other things on the chair. She reached into his drawer and pulled out one of his old army t-shirts, one that seemed a little tight on him but was oversized on her. She slipped it over her head. Cristina usually didn't wear his things when he was around; mostly, she would put on something of his when he was gone working at the hospital, or on the rare night that he slept at his own place. She would never admit it to him, but she liked the way it smelled of Owen, and the way it made her feel safe and secure when he wasn't there. Tonight, she felt like she needed that extra bit of security even though he was right next to her, a bit of material reassurance of his presence.

"What can't I see?"

She stopped and looked at him, temporarily flummoxed.

"What?"

He took a step closer to her. "You said it was you. You said 'Can't you see that?' What can't I see?"

She sighed. She was tired, and sad, and kind of pissed that she was going to have to explain this to him. She could see him, understand him, from almost day one of their meeting, and always thought he could do the same of her. Obviously, she was wrong.

She sat on the edge of the bed, thinking how to explain. Eventually, after a few minutes of silence, Owen sat down next to her, waiting.

"It's been months since I've done a cardio surgery." She stopped, thinking again, toying with the frayed edge of the t-shirt. "I used to be in cardio almost daily. I learned, I felt valuable, useful. I felt worthy of being taught. And then it stopped. Now…now I don't do anything. I don't learn anything. I feel desperate. Nobody can or will teach me. I'll never be able to be the cardio doctor I want to be."

He waited. He understood what she was saying, but it still didn't excuse her behavior.

"I could do that procedure with my eyes closed. I've done it so many times, and every time I felt encouraged and supported. And then suddenly you were yelling at me not to, and I needed to show you I could do it. And to remind myself that I could do it, after all this time with no one teaching me. I felt like if everyone had abandoned me, I was just going to have to teach myself."

"Cristina, if something had gone wrong, you would have lost everything. Your license, your career, everything. It was..." Stupid, he thought. But he didn't say it lest that shut her down. He could tell she was feeling skittish, like a cornered cat. "It was dangerous. Very dangerous."

"I know." She looked so tiny and fragile there on the bed in his big t-shirt, her feet not quite reaching the floor.

"Promise me you won't do something like that again," he demanded. He was done being angry with her, and so desperately wanted to throw his arms around her and comfort her, but he had to be sure she finally grasped the gravity of the situation.

She looked at him sadly, as if she were completely defeated. She knew if she did pull something in the OR again, she would lose him, too, and at this point, he was all she had left. She felt naked, and embarrassed.

"I won't do it again," she said quietly, looking away, feeling tears springing to her eyes that she knew she didn't want him to see. She felt chilled and rubbed her arms. He reached out to put his arm around her, but, not seeing him, she stood up and stepped out of his reach and back into the bathroom. He heard her blowing her nose, and then silence for a few minutes. When she reentered the bedroom, she went to her side of the bed and slipped under the covers. He couldn't read the blank expression on her face.

Owen went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, thinking about the conversation they had just had. When he finished, he stopped in the doorway of the room, looking at Cristina. She hadn't moved, and still lay on two pillows propped up against the headboard, sort of staring off into nothing.

"Do you really feel abandoned?" He asked.

She looked up at him. "Yes," she replied.

"Do you think I've abandoned you?" He continued.

She paused a moment. "You will," she said looking him in the eye. "Something will happen, or I'll do something stupid," she continued, and looked away again, "and you'll go away. It's what always happens."

His heart wrenched. He loved her so profoundly, and deep down she didn't believe he loved her enough to stick around. The day's interactions had only exacerbated that belief. He went and sat on the bed next to her, and took her hand in his. It was the first time he had touched her all day, and he felt the same rush of adrenaline he always felt when she was close. She squeezed his hand tightly, but still wouldn't look up at him.

"What do you mean, it's what always happens?"

"I drive people away. Doctors, teachers, boyfriends, everyone. Dixon didn't want to teach me. She left. Hahn hated me and I don't even know why. She left. Burke…" Cristina didn't want to get into Burke now. It was too much. "I drove Burke away. He left because of me. He left me." He could feel her squeezing his hand tighter and tighter.

Owen had heard Burke's name around the hospital a few times, but didn't think much of it. But the way Cristina spoke made him think there was more to the story than she was letting on.

"I'll ruin this. I'll drive you away. You'll leave me, too. Everyone leaves."

Owen was taken aback by how emotionlessly and matter of fact Cristina said this. It was as if it were already set in stone, the expectation of what would happen already written in permanent marker in her mind. She had no idea of the extent to which he loved her, of what lengths he would go to for her, the things he would do to keep her in his life. When they had broken up over the choking a few months back, his only reason for going through therapy, for learning how to live again, was to be with her. Eventually, he had come to understand that therapy had to be more for him, but he also discovered that being healthy for himself made him want to be better for her.

"Cristina," he said, and then he paused. He didn't know what to say to convince her otherwise. He was a practical person, and had spent so much time concentrating on getting through his life one day at a time, that he was at a temporarily loss as to how to convince her that as far as he was concerned, their future together was anything but uncertain.

He started again. "Do you remember when I said I want to be around in 40 years?"

Her eyes flickered up towards him, and she nodded.

"I still feel that way. Only now I want more. I want to be around for as long as you're willing to have me." Her eyes widened slightly, and she opened her mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it, and closed it again. Owen continued.

"If I thought I were healthy enough, that I was far enough in my therapy and ready, I would marry you, if you would have me. If that were something you wanted. I want to be your husband one day. I want you to be my wife, and for you to be the mother of my children. If you want children. And if you don't, that's okay, too. I don't care, as long as I'm with you."

Cristina was now staring at Owen dumbfounded, as if she had never thought ahead this far. So worried about her career, or lack thereof, she hadn't much considered the possibilities of her future with Owen. Or the possibility that her future would continue past a point where she pissed him off enough to leave her, like most people did.

Owen kept going. "You can be stubborn and self-centered and arrogant. You don't communicate and then you expect me to read your mind." Cristina frowned and opened her mouth to defend herself, but Owen put his fingers to her lips to quiet her. "You are smarter than most people, and you aren't afraid to let them know it. You are demanding and impatient and a show off and a smart ass."

"Well, you're…" Cristina started, sputtering angrily, but Owen stopped her again.

"You are all these things, and I love you. Do you know what you also are? You are amazingly talented and brilliantly intelligent. You are caring and intuitive, loyal and loving. You stuck by me when you had no reason to. You loved me in spite of the fact that I did everything that should have driven you away and made you leave. You made me want to be healthy again, and to believe in myself. You made me want to be a better man for you and for me. All I am, and all I ever want to be, is because of you."

Cristina sat quietly as Owen removed his fingers from her lips. They watched each other for a few moments, and then Owen reached up to brush a few tendrils from Cristina's face. He leaned in and gently kissed her; her left hand reached up automatically to touch his face.

"I don't want to leave you, ever," he whispered when their lips pulled apart.

"I don't want you to," she replied.

"Good," he answered. "Then let's not argue about what's not going to happen." He gave her a small smile and a quick kiss. She smiled back at him. Instead of getting up and walking around the bed, he climbed over her, making her giggle slightly, and slid under the covers. She inched back to him, and he wrapped his arms around her to spoon. She felt his hot breath on her neck, and snuggled even further into his embrace. They lay for several minutes like that, and Owen was about to drift off when Cristina pulled herself from his arms and sat up straight, looking worried.

"What?" He asked, sleepily. He thought they had sorted this out, but maybe not.

"I forgot to tell you something," she said, looking down at him, upset.

"Hmmmm?" He answered, his eyes still closed.

She waited a moment, considering.

"Jackson Avery kissed me at the party tonight." Cristina meant to continue, but Owen sat up immediately, wide-eyed and instantly awake.

"What? He did what?"

"When I came into the bedroom he was coming out of my bathroom and started talking about the surgery today and that I was hot and before I knew it, he kissed me. I pushed him away immediately and told him I was involved. And then I left the party to come find you." Cristina watched him hesitantly. She hadn't been sure if she should tell him, but after what he said tonight, she felt that she should. She hadn't done anything wrong, anyway.

"That little bastard," Owen fumed, sitting up more straight, now.

"He was pretty drunk. He's kind of a jackass, actually. But I'm pretty sure he knows now that I'm with you. Or not you, specifically, but with someone. It's none of his damn business who I'm with." Cristina watched Owen with curiosity now. She had never seen him jealous before.

"Oh, he'll find out it's me, alright," he said, fuming. "What the hell was he thinking?"

Cristina was smiling, enjoying watching Owen get all hot and bothered even though they had just had this conversation that made clear that their future was together. "He was thinking that I'm hot. Which is true. I am hot."

Owen looked at her. "This isn't funny," he said sternly.

"Oh, come on. It's a little funny, isn't it? Him thinking he's all manly and suave when he's got no chance in hell?" The corner of her lip quivered; she wanted to giggle, but didn't want to take it too far, either.

"Tomorrow I'll make it very clear to him that he's got no chance in hell," Owen muttered.

Cristina was enjoying this now. She snuggled into him and threw an arm around his chest. "What are you gonna do, pee in a circle around me and mark your territory?"

"Maybe," he mumbled, knowing he sounded foolish. He turned on his side, and Cristina turned with him so that she was spooned back into his embrace. They lay for a few minutes, and finally Cristina felt him relax. Unexpectedly, he whispered in her ear. "I'm glad you told me. I'm not glad it happened, but I'm glad you didn't feel like you had to keep it secret from me."

She turned in his arms to face him. "I almost didn't," she said quietly. "I forgot about it, but then when I did remember, I thought about what you said. That I don't communicate. That I expect you to know what I'm thinking. I didn't want this to somehow come up later and become a thing." She looked into his eyes. "Because it's not a thing. It's not anything."

He held her in his arms and looked back at her. "I know," he said. "That's not anything. Because this—you and me—this is everything."

Cristina smiled, and stretched up to kiss Owen. Then, instead of turning back to spoon, she snuggled into him. Right then, at that moment, she could actually believe that he would never leave her. There might be hope for her, yet. She pressed herself against him and felt him tighten his embrace. Maybe he wouldn't let her go, after all.

Now, if only someone would come to teach her, she thought, closing her eyes and slowly drifting back to sleep. That would make her life perfect.


End file.
